


immolation

by orphan_account



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21920827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ormond is a town where nothing happens and highschool sucks. Luckily, the town gets a break from boredom in the form of Frank Morrison, who takes an interest in the often bruised and bloodied Dwight Fairfield. One thing leads to another and then someone goes missing.
Relationships: Dwight Fairfield/Frank Morrison
Comments: 8
Kudos: 94





	immolation

**Author's Note:**

> Gift for a friend!  
> Highschool AU with ambiguous aging, so tagged for underage since Frank is definitely older.

Red and sticky. Dwight is very familiar with how a nosebleed feels. He’s sat here many times before, alone on the bleachers out behind the school. The wind feels nice on his skin as he watches the gophers make a mess of the sports field. Many kids have broken their ankles while playing football because of those rodents making holes everywhere.

A shaky sigh escapes his bloodied lips. It’s not their fault. The doctor said he just bleeds easy, doesn’t clot very much. The red stain on the collar of his shirt makes it look a lot worse. Everyone just giggled when a teacher found them and fussed over how much blood was leaking out of Dwight’s face. She wasn’t very surprised, though, the teacher. The football boys harassing him is a daily occurrence. That’s just how highschool is, really. The strong eat the weak. “I’m not weak.” Dwight tells himself, but he doesn’t believe his own words. Nobody who’s strong gets beat up every day like that. Nobody who’s strong sits alone at lunch. His mom always tells him that there’s not much point to being big and muscular in the real world. Smarts will do you much better, get you a real job, and she’s right. But it’s really hard to care about ‘the real world’ when the sleepy town of Ormond is all Dwight knows, and right now, Ormond fucking sucks.

Footsteps from behind him drag Dwight’s head out of the clouds. A shock of panic runs through him. It’s probably David coming back for round two, thirsty for revenge after getting a suspension. Part of him wants to just keep staring ahead and pretend he doesn’t notice them, but curiosity gets the better of him and he cranes his neck around. Oh. It’s… Frank Morrison? By himself. Dwight furrows his brow. Somehow, he feels more threatened by him than by the guy who just beat his face in. Dwight’s in the same class as him, yes, but Frank is 19, which is cool, and goes to parties, which is also cool. In other words, people like Frank don’t talk to people like Dwight without good reason to.

“Hey.” Frank says simply, leaping up onto the bleachers to plop down next to Dwight. “Saw you get your ass handed to you back there. That British guy really nailed you in the nose with your Calc textbook, eh?”

Dwight’s shoulders heave up and down as he takes a deep breath. A wry grin appears on his face when he touches the bridge of his nose. The way his dirty glasses are bent on his face is a testament to how they had gotten sent flying across the school when David took a swing in the hallway. “Yeah. It hurt a lot.” He sniffs and pulls the wad of tissue out of his nostril. Frank looks down at the red soaking through it, leaking onto Dwight’s fingers, and he just chuckles.

“Damn impressive that you just got back up and walked away. Takes some balls to take a hit like that so easily. Hell, Jules said she heard the smack all the way from the chem lab!” He gives a toothy grin as he shakes Dwight’s shoulder. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that makes Dwight sit up a little taller. It’s immediately obvious to Dwight why people get drawn to any party Frank’s at. He has a strange quality of making you feel cool just by talking to you. “Man, fuck that dude. Why the hell is he even here? Who chooses to move across the damn ocean to come live in rural Alberta of all places?”

“I heard his dad’s a doctor.” Dwight stretched his legs out in front of him, balancing his heels on the bleacher seat in front of him. “I guess the hospital paid big bucks to get someone here. Didn’t he say his family was in Toronto before this?”

“What a dickhead. Probably thinks he can get away with being a fuckin’ prick just ‘cause his daddy’s rich.” Frank scoffs. “Still doesn’t answer why someone would come here. Europe’s plenty nice from what I hear. Did you know they got free college over there? That’s total bull, if you ask me. The government here can’t even pave the damn roads right.”

“Heh, yeah.” Dwight leans back and looks over at Frank, who’s busying himself by throwing pebbles in the direction of gophers. A colorful tattoo covers the front of his neck. Definitely not well-received by any of the school staff, but there’s no rules about tattoos in the student handbook, so Frank gets away with it. All the other students think it’s either trashy beyond belief or cool as heck. Dwight, personally, belongs in the second group. Not that he would ever get something like that.

“You staring at my tat?” Frank gives him a nudge in the arm and Dwight feels his face light up red. He hadn’t realized he had been staring so intensely. It’s just so easy to get lost in the easy smile, friendly stance, the knowing eyes.

Dwight stares down at his nails and picks at a crack in one. “No, not at all. Sorry.”

“It’s cool, right?” He ignores Dwight’s terrible attempt at pretending he wasn’t looking and pulls down the collar of his shirt to reveal the full tattoo. A skull surrounded by flames stretches down to the top of his collar bone. Dwight, however, is more fixated on the sight of Frank’s chest than any of the colorful skin. When Dwight takes a second too long to respond, Frank slips his shirt back up and prods the conversation along. “You got any ink?”

“Oh, um…” Dwight reaches down and pulls up his pant leg. On his ankle is a black six that he got for his 18th birthday. It was a bit of an impulse decision, to be honest, but he doesn’t regret it or anything. “Just this. It isn’t anything too crazy. Kinda lame compared to yours…”

Frank throws an arm around Dwight’s neck and pulls him in. “Nah, man, that’s sick! Compared to all the prudes in this town, that shit makes you one of the cool ones.”

“Really…?” Dwight lights up at this. The Frank Morrison just called him cool. That isn’t something to take lightly. All those years of joining clubs, awkward conversations in the cafeteria, just to try to fit in, and Frank frickin’ Morrison just came up and called him cool. Wow. Deep down, he rationalizes it by saying, “Oh, Frank’s just being nice, he says that to everyone.” But it feels too good to be fake. Why would he bother faking it when they’re alone on a football field?

“Yeah, bro. Tell you what, me and my friends are gonna get wasted at Julie’s place tonight. You wanna come?” Frank stands up, and when Dwight stands up too, they both realize how different their heights are. Being 6’6”, Dwight’s at least a head taller than the other man. He’s been a bean pole ever since 10th grade and, yes, people teased him about how scrawny he was. Just a little bit of teasing, though. He was never much of a victim until David came around.

“You sure?” Dwight purses his lips, not wanting to intrude at all. Last thing he wants is to show up and have everyone groan as soon as he walks in. “Are your friends okay with it? I don’t really know them very well.”

“Oh, fuck yeah, dude! Just bring some booze and they’ll love ya. They’re super chill.” He pauses for a second. “If I say you’re cool, they’ll like you.”

There’s a cabinet full of liquor in the kitchen back home. Dwight’s heart starts racing just thinking about stealing some of his parents’ stuff. Not that it’s illegal for him to drink, and not that his parents are particularly anal about stuff like that, but they definitely would not approve of him giving their alcohol to some random classmates at a random party. That being said, Dwight isn’t about to completely ruin this by being a stickler for the rules, so he nods enthusiastically. “That sounds wonderful!” He cringes at how preppy he sounds. “I mean, yeah, cool, I’m down.”

Frank just chuckles. “Cool, see ya at eight.”

“See you then.” Dwight says and offers a genuine smile. Frank hops off the bleachers and walks away without anything more than a wave over his shoulder. He pulls his leather jacket tight, throws up the hood, and disappears into a busted up Chevy truck waiting outside the front of the school. Dwight sits there for a long time after Frank’s gone, watching the gophers until the chilly air starts up his nose bleed again.

\----------------

Ormond is one hell of a sleepy town, but on Friday nights, the hum of house music fills the silence. Weekend parties scattered around the small neighborhoods act as islands in an ocean of boredom. Even someone as nondescript as Dwight has been to plenty of them, seeing as everybody knows everybody and it’s far too easy to get dragged into things. That being said, the kind of people Dwight usually hangs out with are usually far more… tame.

The thumping bass fills Dwight’s chest, a feeling dangerously similar to a panic attack. The smell of booze permeates everything. He can see the effects of it, too. Dozens and dozens of teens losing themselves to the music, pressing up against one another in the dark, focused only on the sensation. Yeah, the parties Dwight likes to go to usually involve a board game or two, nothing this wild. Clutching onto a bottle of rum like a safety blanket, Dwight navigates past a couple making out next to the front door and looks around for Frank. There’s plenty of faces he recognizes from school, but barely any of them even acknowledge his existence. He’s not sure if he wants to be acknowledged.

After hopelessly wandering through a few of the crowded rooms of Julie’s fancy family home, Dwight ends up in the kitchen where myriad bottles and cups are strewn about. The floor is sticky under his sneakers from all the spilled liquor. He’s already getting a headache from the noise, smells, dim lights, smoke haze. It’s all so overwhelming that his brain just wants to shut down, but maybe that’s what people like about these parties. A chance to slip away, to be nobody for a night. It would almost be enjoyable, if only his heart would stop racing so fast.

A hand clasps on his shoulder and Dwight jumps out of his skin. He spins around with his eyes wide, only to see Frank’s dopey grin greeting him. The smell of weed exudes off of him, so much so that Dwight has to stop himself from covering his nose. He can see it in Frank’s eyes, too. Blasted beyond rational thought. “Hey, you came!” He shouts over the music, but even then, Dwight can’t quite hear what he’s saying. He can only guess based on Frank’s lip movements. “Brought some booze, eh?” 

Frank takes the bottle out of Dwight’s shaky hands and pours it out into two red solo cups. He thrusts the cup back into Dwight’s hand so quickly that a splash of liquid spills out onto Dwight’s white shirt. “Thanks.” Dwight mumbles.

“How are ya likin’ it? Pretty fuckin’ sick tonight, eh?” Frank turns to survey the crowd, smiling to himself. Now that he has a rock to fall against in Frank, Dwight also takes a moment to look around. The walls are oddly bare, furniture scarce. Julie probably stashed anything important away lest any crazy party-goers break something while her parents are off in the city. Over in the living room, adjacent to the kitchen, the popular Joey stands on a table, guzzling down a pack of beer while a group of guys cheers him on. The girls sit off to the side, muttering amongst themselves, admiring their favorite men. In the dining room, Susie and a random assortment of people are playing beer pong without much success due to their lack of sobriety. They just keep missing shots and chugging anyway. He briefly wonders where Julie is, considering she’s the host, but she’s probably just lost in the sea of people somewhere.

“Yeah, sick.” Dwight swallows down a mouthful of rum. The burning liquid slides down his throat, sending a wave of warmth into his stomach. It’s times like these that he wishes he could have some fruity mixed drink instead of drinking alcohol straight, but maybe he wouldn’t be as cool if had to dilute his alcohol with a bunch of sugar.

They’ve already wasted enough time standing around, so Frank downs his cup, pours another shot, and downs that too. Dwight watches silently until Frank grabs his arm, causing him to spill more of his drink, and leads him towards the dance floor. “Come on, dude, let’s fuckin’ lose it!”

Not wanting to say no, Dwight lets himself get dragged through a minefield of bodies shaking around until they’re lost in the crowd. He loses all sense of direction in the dark. The heat of bodies against bodies, all moving rhythmically to the music, is overwhelming. Frank swings his body, flailing his arms in quirky dance moves, legs kicking out. He spins around through the crowd until he finds a girl to press against. They flirt and grind and feel each other up until the flash fire is gone and then they’re apart just like that. Dwight, meanwhile, just bounces his shoulders to the beat. There’s hardly any liquor left in his cup due to how many people have bumped into him, but he downs the rest just to get some kind of buzz going.

He closes his eyes and loses himself to the song blaring in his ears. He can’t even hear his own thoughts. Nobody pays attention to him, nobody expects him to do anything. Part of the body of people, he ceases to exist as an individual. It equally scares and comforts him.

The world comes back to life when his eyes shoot open. Someone’s grinding their crotch against his backside. Head still spinning from the imaginary high, Dwight lets them do it, even adding a bit of motion to it on his part. He can feel the heat pressing into his back. It’s nice. That is, until a wave of sobriety hits him and he twists his head back to see who it is, only to see Frank, who’s leering at him with half-lidded eyes. The older boy’s hand reaches around and grabs onto Dwight’s chin. He twists Dwight’s head to the side so that mouth is close to Dwight’s ear. “Let’s go upstairs.”

A million thoughts race through Dwight’s mind, and yet, none of them matter. Frank’s hand is on his wrist and they’re parting people like the Red Sea as they make their way to the rooms upstairs. The hardwood stairs creak under their weight. Drunk bystanders nod to Frank as he passes by. How many people know him here? How many people has he done this with?

The bedroom door slams behind them. Not even a second passes before Frank is on him, pressing their mouths together. His hands slip down Dwight’s back, fingers feeling his curves, gripping onto the material of his jeans. Frank’s tongue moves down and runs across Dwight’s neck, eliciting a gasp from the younger boy. Dwight’s knees bend to fall into Frank, to press into him. 

The steady hum of the muffled music guides them along. Static fills Dwight’s head and he fights through it to savor the feeling. It shouldn’t be this hard to say no. He should’ve said it before they ever left the dance floor, but now he’s digging his fingers into Frank’s cropped hair as the shorter boy’s belt buckle falls away. Before Frank can free his member, though, Dwight swallows hard and finds his voice. “Frank, I don’t think--”

“Don’t worry about Julie.” He slurs back, eyes closed as he leans forward and slides his hands under Dwight’s waistband. Their crotches press together and they feel each other’s heat. “She don’t gotta know, right?”

“But I don’t--”

“Just shut up and let it happen, man.” Frank sighs as he pulls down his boxers, letting his erect cock jump out. A bead of precum has already formed on the head of it. “You know, I always thought you had a nice ass. Makes PE fun sometimes.”

Dwight’s not sure whether to feel flattered or embarrassed. How many times has Frank looked at him like that? What about when they were changing in the locker room? This is all moving so fast. His back is against the wall, sinking lower and lower as Frank urges him towards his cock. Is he actually gay or does he just need the release? Dwight knows this is wrong, knows that he shouldn’t help Frank cheat, knows that he shouldn’t take advantage of a drunk and drugged man, but somehow, he doubts there will ever be another chance.

He can hear his inner demons laughing as he takes hold of Frank’s dick and starts running his tongue over the tip. Frank moans and buckles his hip forward, urging his cock deeper in Dwight’s mouth. “Fuck, that’s good.” He moans out.

Dwight’s hand slips down into his own pants and rubs at his erection. A streak of precum stains his underwear already. He frees his cocks and keeps stroking himself as he works on bringing Frank closer to an orgasm. It feels strange to be used like this, but Dwight finds himself accepting it, enjoying it far more than he should. He wishes they could stay like this forever. Hormonal teens sharing each other’s bodies.

But it doesn’t last much longer. The taste of Frank’s cum floods his mouth and Dwight lets himself cum onto his own stomach. Dwight tries to swallow down as much of the semen as he can, but with Frank’s cock still buried into his mouth, it’s impossible to avoid some dribbling down his chin. Frank stands over him for a while, head balanced against the wall as he waits for his legs to stop shaking. Eventually, his breath steadies and he pulls out of Dwight. The sight of Dwight’s cum-covered jaw makes Frank break out in giggles as he retrieves a box of tissues from the night stand. He cleans himself up first before throwing the box to Dwight, who gets to wiping off the cum from his face and stomach.

“I knew you would be good at this. We should do this again some time.” Frank sighs as he tucks his dick back into his pants. The unmistakable stench of sex fills the room, which is a welcome change compared to the stink of marijuana.

“Yeah.” Dwight swallows hard. Cum still lines his throat and talking is hard. “I’d like that.”

“Tell ya what…” Running a hand over his stubbly chin, Frank steps over to the door with a mischaeveous grin. “I’ll have another surprise for you Monday night. You down?”

“Yeah.” He can’t say no, even though he wants to.

“Cool, cool. We’ll pick you up from school.” Frank wags his eyebrows in the most cheesy way possible. “I’m gonna go get some more to drink. Come back down when you’re done in here, yeah?”

The door creaks open and slams shut and then Dwight’s alone again. He listens to the sound of his own shaky breathing, head slumped against the wall. He didn’t want Frank to leave. Why can’t they spend the night together, press tight again, explore each other’s bodies more? Even if he’s just a toy, just a fling, Dwight would gladly let Frank use him over and over again. He didn’t want to risk losing someone like Frank. It means more than sex or even friendship. Having Frank means he’s not a loser.

Dwight bites down on his lip as he stands up and throws away the cum-soaked tissues. Tears shouldn’t be welling up in his eyes, and he definitely shouldn’t want to leave the party already, but he can’t bear to look people in the eyes tonight after giving Frank a quickie in someone’s bedroom. Hopefully Frank will understand if he leaves early. Maybe he’ll be too lost in the booze to even notice or care. Head throbbing with pain, Dwight opens the door only to be greeted with a woozy couple barging in past him and kicking him out. It offends Dwight more than it should, causing him to waste no time in getting the hell out.

The front door swings open and a wave of cold night air hits him. Once he’s on the sidewalk and the party is nothing but a faint hum in his ears, Dwight takes a shaky breath and shoves his hands in his pocket. The whole walk home, his body is numb. He won’t be getting any sleep tonight. 

The fear of Monday is weighing too heavily on his mind.

\----------------

It was hard to stay focused in class. By the end of the school day, all his notebooks were filled with nervous scribbles instead of whatever the hell he was supposed to be learning. How was he expected to focus when he’s supposed to hang out with Frank later? He thought of everything that could go right or wrong. There was a lot that could go wrong, actually, but that didn’t stop him from fantasizing about Frank. His fingers get twitchy every time he thinks about Frank’s hands on him, about his heat, his smile.

And now he’s standing out on the curb, a rock in a river of students rushing to get home. It’s been a few minutes. Not long enough for them to be considered late, but long enough for Dwight to start wondering if they had forgotten about him. To pass the time, Dwight starts counting the cracks in the pavement.

“Get in, nerd.” Joey calls from the front seat of his car.

Dwight jerks his gaze up from the ground and points at himself. Me?

“Yeah, you. Come on, get in already!” The rear door pops open and a girl with pink hair pokes her head out. She smiles wide enough for all of her braces to be on display. “Frank and Julie are waiting for us!”

Not wanting to risk irritating anyone, Frank climbs into the backseat of Joey’s car and tosses his backpack onto the seat beside him. “Thanks for the ride, guys.”

“No problemo, Dwighty.” Susie’s perched over the back of her seat, staring at Dwight with her makeup-covered eyes. “Frank already told us about you. He said you had a piercing and stuff. Where’d you get it done at? I’ve been thinking about getting one for a while. Would an eyebrow one look good?” She prods at her very tweezed eyebrows and frowns.

Had he told Frank about the piercing? If he didn’t, he should’ve, but turns out Frank noticed anyway. Not that it’s hard to notice. A couple studs on his tongue, though he’s not entirely sure why he had gotten it down. It was back when he was 16 and he had been shocked to find out his parents were okay with it. Whoever he got his piercing done with, though, was already long gone from his life. He probably would never have gotten it done by himself. “Oh, the tattoo shop on Main Street does them. It’s not really that expensive.”

“That’s sooo cool!” Susie twists around in her seat and buckles in so that they can get going. Wasn’t very fun to get pulled over by the RCMP for breaking such a boring law. “My parents would never let me get one!”

Joey shifts the gears and speeds off from the school, blowing a huge cloud of dust onto all the kids standing outside on the sidewalk. He glances at Dwight through the rearview mirror. “Nice shiner there. You pick fights often or does trouble just seem to find you?”

Oh, right. Dwight absent-mindedly touches the yellowish purple bruise on his right eye and winces. If Joey had to ask, that really must mean he doesn’t pay attention to him. Everyone should know that Dwight’s a popular punching bag. It’s somehow disheartening to think that Joey doesn’t even know that about him. “Um, usually more the second one. I don’t really mind, though. It doesn’t hurt that much.”

“Figures. You don’t look like the bruiser type, but damn, bro, go to the gym a bit and you might not be too bad in a fight.” Joey says. They take a turn off onto a grid road and find themselves swallowed by trees in seconds. Dwight stares out the window at all the shadows lurking in the woods. It wasn’t uncommon for guys to go out drinking under the cover of the forest. “Not every guy can take a punch like that. Most losers start sobbing before they even get hit. You, though. You’re made of some tough stuff underneath that nerdy exterior.”

“I look nerdy?” Dwight feels vaguely offended by the suggestion, but it’s beaten out by the sense of pride he gets. It’s not that he’s particularly brave. It’s just that he knows what he has to do to survive highschool, and sometimes, surviving is the best you can do.

“Not like, super super nerdy, but pretty nerdy.” Susie chimes in. “Like, people would pay you to do their math homework, but you’re still cool, you know?”

“That’s…” Still not very flattering, but he doesn’t say that. “I mean, I guess I’m pretty good at Calculus.”

“Hell yeah!” Susie reaches back and holds her hand high. Reluctantly, Dwight gives her the high-five, causing her to let out a cheer. “Now you can do my homework for me since Joe refuses to!”

“This is why you suck at math, ‘cause you refuse to even try.” Joey gently maneuvers the vehicle around a weathered ‘Do Not Enter’ sign blocking the middle of the road. There’s a flattened-down groove in the shoulder that allows them to easily bypass it. Must be a popular sign to ignore. “Let me know how Walmart works out for you while we’re studying astrophysics at Yale.”

“Yeah, right! You’re all working at Walmart with me, idiot! Just because you cheat on your math tests doesn’t mean you’re gonna go to fucking Yale.” Susie hides her mouth with her oversized sweater sleeves as she lets out a loud cackle.

“Fuck off!” He jokingly gives her a push. Dwight has nothing to add to the conversation but he enjoys feeling included in the joke. “I can do half that shit in my head. Easy as hell class.”

Susie rolls her eyes and lets out another ugly laugh. “Ooh, big dick over here, show off some more.” 

The car stops. In the late fall evening, a yellow hue is cast over the world. No snow has fallen and yet the Ormond Ski Resort stands tall at the base of Mount Ormond, making Dwight feel like he’s on winter vacation. He has a vague memory of coming here long ago, just before it got closed down, but maybe he fabricated that? Nobody ever talks about this place and yet everybody knows it. It has a mysterious past. There was some shitty TV show that tried to film a ghost hunting show here once, but it was so obviously fake that it never aired.

The three teens step out of Joey’s car and look around. A chilly wind brings in the scent of the pines surrounding them. If there’s one good thing about living out in the sticks, it’s that there’s plenty of chances to appreciate all that nature has to offer.

“They should be waiting inside!” Susie runs off ahead, leaving Dwight and Joey standing there together. Another strong gust of wind causes the wooden structure before them to creak ominously and suddenly Dwight’s wishing he brought a thicker jacket.

“After you.” Joey gives Dwight a pat on the back to urge him forward. “Gonna be a fun night, my man.”

For some reason, hearing that sends a shiver down Dwight’s spine, but he shakes it off as nerves. It’s been a while since he’s been out with a couple friends like this, apart from that party last Friday where he bailed half an hour in. It’s hard to want to socialize when most of his days revolve around getting shoved around by stupid David King. It’s so dumb. Dwight’s jaw sets hard. This is a chance for something new. He’s not gonna let the past ruin his mood tonight. Hopefully they have something to soothe his nerves.

He shivers again. Eager to get into the warmth, Dwight follows after Susie with Joey trailing behind him. The front door of the lodge squeaks like it hadn't been touched in years, which is a very real possibility for this place. Everything echoes in the open space of the main hall. The door, the footsteps, his breath, the pained groaning. 

Wait, what?

“Dwight, hey, you made it.” Frank greets him at the door. He has a knife twirling between his fingers. The fireplace behind him is raging, sending waves of heat all the way over to the door where Dwight’s standing. Curious, Dwight peers around the man to look at what’s going on. In the middle of the hall is a depression in the floor where the large central heater sits. In front of the blazing furnace is a rickety wooden chair with David King tied to it, face already bloodied.

What, and this can not be stressed enough, the fuck?

“Frank?” He doesn’t know what to say. His mouth falls open and no words come. What are you supposed to say in this situation? David lifts his head and stares at Dwight with recognition, as if this somehow makes sense. Like they were all waiting for him to arrive.

Frank waves his hands in the air and grins wide. “Surprise!”

Joey steps up behind Dwight and gives him a pat on the shoulder. “Frank told us this guy’s been giving you hell. He’s been here since Saturday night.”

“Don’t worry.” Julie, the most popular girl in their class, waves a knife around as she speaks. Maybe the teachers were right when they were talking about how Frank’s a bad influence. “He isn’t gonna bite anymore.”

“Well, if he knows what’s good for him, anyway.” Frank steps over to David’s side, which causes the football player to start wiggling against his rope ties. A thick cloth is shoved into his mouth as a makeshift gag. “Ain’t that right, Davey?” He claps his hand onto David’s shoulder and the broad man tenses under the touch.

“F-Frank!” Dwight blurts out. His knees are shaking and he hates it. Sweat’s dripping off his forehead despite the cold air blowing in from behind him. “This… This isn’t…” 

God, why is he afraid to say anything? This should be easy. Scream, yell, tell the police. There’s a lot of crimes going on here, and by not doing anything, he’s already an accomplice. What will his parents say? What will his classmates say? What will the police say? Dwight’s heart throbs and throbs until it starts hurting.

Frank’s eyes glint. “This isn’t what?”

And Dwight swallows hard. “You didn’t need to do this.”

“What, and let him keep bullying my newest pal?” Frank pulls Dwight close to him by looping his arm around Dwight’s neck. “You think we can just let some prick fuck with us? No way.”

“Nobody’s gonna know what happened to him. We haven’t been caught yet.” Julie assures him. She stares at Dwight with a foreign ferocity. This can’t be the Julie he knows, the one who won prom queen and aces all her tests. No, she looks nothing like her. Maybe it’s the blood streaking across her perfect features that’s ruined her, or maybe Dwight shouldn’t pretend to know somebody he’s never talked to before.

With Frank grabbing him and Julie’s gaze locked onto him, Dwight turns to Joey and Susie for help. Joey stares back emotionlessly, but Susie seems to be cracking under the tension of the situation, as she starts laughing awkwardly. With her cotton candy hair and overly cute outfit, how could she be part of this? She points over at David. “Dwight, why don’t you take over for a bit? Let him have it!”

“Here.” Julie flips the knife around in her hand and points the handle of it towards Dwight.

“Yeah, come on, dude.” Joey urges, stepping closer. They all close in a little bit more with each second that pases until there’s a wall of bodies blocking any escape. The handle of the knife feels sticky with coagulated blood. The feeling in his fingertips is fading too, but maybe that’s just the cold getting to him. He turns away from his friends and looks over at David King.

Thick lines of dried blood run down his face. Scabs and cuts are all over his body. Black bruises obscure his eyes, but despite the gore, David maintains that same expression he always has. Strong, fearless. Even in a situation like this, he’s still stronger than Dwight. Tears start welling up in Dwight’s eyes. How pathetic could he get? The knife quivers in his hand. It’s too heavy.

“Something wrong, bud?” Frank nudges Dwight in the shoulder. His tone is perfectly calm, but Dwight can sense the edge in his voice. He’s taking too long. Too much hesitation. Dwight already knows what Frank’s thinking: Should’ve known you were too weak to be part of our group.

Dwight’s toes curl in his shoes. What would they do if he bailed now? He would be a liability since he could tell the cops. They would never just let him leave, not after coming this far. His fingerprints are on the knife now, too. There’s only one way out and Dwight can’t even bear to think about it. Instead, he stalls by ripping the cloth out of David’s mouth. The man gasps for air for a minute before muttering out a seemingly endless list of curses.

“Dwight, what the fuck?” Julie reaches out to steal her knife back, but Frank catches her arm and shoots her a dirty look. For whatever reason, they don’t stop him.

David looks up at all of them and spits a wad of blood onto Dwight’s shoe. “What the fuck d’you want, mate? You and yer gang of wankers here to finally finish me off?”

He doesn’t want to answer that question, but he knows he has to say something before someone else does. His pulse quickens as he starts to speak and he can’t help but chew on his nail to keep himself grounded. The taste of dirt stains his tongue as he digs into the calloused skin of his finger. “David, why did you do it? I-I mean, why did you keep pushing me around and stuff? I just don’t get it. Why?”

“What’re you on about?” David laughs and Dwight’s fingers grip the knife a little tighter. “It ain’t that deep, mate. Just havin’ a laugh with the boys between classes. Nothin’ personal. No harm done.”

“Well, harm was fucking done!” Dwight snaps. A long silence fills the room until Dwight lets out a sigh. He can feel the eyes on him and it spurs his emotions on. If there’s no way out, then he might as well let it spill out. “Do you know how much I hate school just because of you? Do you know how much you hurt my parents? Can you imagine your son coming home every day with a new bruise?”

“Damn, dude.” Joey mutters.

“Tell him!” Susie cheers him on from behind.

Dwight’s words pick up speed, gaining confidence as he goes on. “You think you can go around doing whatever you want just because you’re popular and rich! It’s so bullshit! Just because you’re on the football team doesn’t mean you get to make my life hell! Well, news flash, you’re not that cool!”

“Fuck him up, bro!” Frank this time.

“I fucking hate you!” Tears cloud his vision, but he can see the shock on David’s face. Dwight can’t tell if it’s because of what he’s saying or if it’s because he’s getting closer to the edge. His heartbeat is drowning out his thoughts. “You’ll never understand how hard it is to get tormented every single day. You don’t know what it feels like.”

“Do it, Dwight.” Julie.

Do it.

Do it, Dwight, or they’ll do it to you.

So he does. Without thinking, guided only by his pulse, he drives the knife down into David’s thigh. Buries it down to the hilt and rubs the blade in. David lets out a scream. It echoes into the forest, but they’re the only ones that hear it. The people of Ormond are a couple clicks away and the sound doesn’t travel that far. They exist in a world altogether different, one in which Dwight is a different person. He is nameless and does not have an identity. All he knows how to do is stand there and watch as the others take turns with the knife. David’s mouth is stuck wide open in a permanent scream until blood starts slipping out over his lips. The beating in his head drones on and on and on.

Frank’s laughing. It’s the first thing he hears when the numbness fades and the feeling in his hands comes back. His breathing is shallow, shaky, rapid, then it’s sobbing. His face is wet but he can’t feel any tears. His gaze drops down to his red hand. His fingertips are stained dark brown, almost black in the dim lighting. He can’t move his eyes off his fingers. Joey’s laughing with Frank and they’re all gushing about how great that was.

“Didn’t think he would actually do it!” Joey chuckles to himself.

Julie grunts as she and Joey start dragging the body away from the fire. “Hey, if Susie can do it, then anyone can.”

“Jules! What’s that supposed to mean!?” Susie snort-laughs.

Their voices seem so distant, but Frank’s is so close. He addresses only Dwight and touches him despite the blood, or maybe because of it. “That was amazing.” He says. Dwight looks over at the older boy.

“Did I…? Is he…?” Dwight can’t even manage to ask it, and yet, he already knows the answer. He knows very well what he did. There’s no way he couldn’t, not when the blood on his arm is still warm.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll take care of the body. Nobody’s gonna find the body this far out in the woods. These trees go on for miles.” Frank puts his arm around Dwight’s back and Dwight nods. He has to believe him, of course. Their lives will be over if Frank is wrong.

“Yeah.” It’s all Dwight can manage to say. His eyes are glazed over, unfocused. If he lets himself feel anything, sense anything, exist, then it would come rushing out, the tears, the vomit. He can’t ruin this now, not when he’s gotten this far. He has to be strong. He has to prove himself. He can’t disappoint Frank.

“How did it feel?” Frank asks.

“Good.” Dwight swallows hard. It’s the answer Frank wants to hear, and now, that’s the answer Dwight believes. His original answer to that question does not exist anymore.

“You’re part of the Legion now. We’re all in this together.”

A place to belong. A group that will never leave him. No more bullies. No more lonely nights. He can’t imagine a future without Frank now. 

There’s no going back.


End file.
